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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309679">Infinite Resignation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruitloop1001/pseuds/Fruitloop1001'>Fruitloop1001</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Benry is not a Good Guy in this, Blood and Gore, But it's very light, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Not A Game AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:28:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruitloop1001/pseuds/Fruitloop1001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a month since the events of the Resonance Cascade and the living hell that came with it. Gordon Freeman has been plagued by nightmares that keep him stuck in the past while everyone else around him seems to be moving on. It doesn't help that he can't seem to stop dreaming about Benry. Or that he's pretty sure Benry's back from the dead.</p><p>(Not a game AU. Characters in the tags will be added in later chapters if you don't see them already. Slow burn/fix-it.)<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), One-Sided - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HLVRAI</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Into the Breach</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The walls of Black Mesa were still splattered with the blood of people Gordon had helped kill. It was as if the entirety of the facility had turned into a giant Rorschach inkblot test with gore as the paint. Even the ceiling had splatters, occasionally. The Resonance Cascade had taken care of a majority of all human life on this level. Human-shaped smeared dotted the entrance of the facility at about the right placement of human habitation. It reminded Gordon of those pictures of Hiroshima after the bombing, where individuals had been atomized into a forever reminder on the pavement.</p><p>Everything remained untouched. Abandoned desktops were left offline with hardly a rolling chair out of place. It’s as if the facility was paused at the last second Gordon had seen it. A disquieting thought reached him from behind his veneer of tourist-like interest: the bodies were missing. The cleanup of Black Mesa’s incident had already begun.  </p><p>When his Black Mesa mandated therapist said that he was going to relive trauma, Gordon didn’t think he meant it literally. The nightmares had been expected, although an entirely unwelcomed element into Gordon’s insomniac sleep schedule. He couldn’t remember his hour commute to the Black Mesa compound from his rented house. Too many mornings blurred together to pull a clear image together for this particular instance. Repetitious familiarity pulled unrelated variables together to excuse the gaps. It explained away how he passed through the security checkpoint, if there was even one at all.</p><p>It finally all came rushing back to Gordon when he entered into the locker room. Somehow, he had managed to wander, wraithlike, through the entrance. He had moved with the kind of mindless surety born only through years’ worth of routine. His knees buckled underneath him and he stumbled over to the benches. Sweat and warmth were suddenly present on his mind. The HEV suit all too snug against his skin, baking him from the inside out. The almost dead battery blinked light against the floor. It was his suit exactly. The suit that had taken him through this damned facility. Where he had acquired the suit, much less had the time and ability to put it on pulled up blank in his mind. It was as if he had never left it in the first place.</p><p>He warbled a panicked “what the fuuuck”, triggering his breathing to spike. Hysterics claw at the corner of his mind and find purchase in the shadowy crevasses he had once thought he illuminated. He had to force himself to practice his therapist’s advice. His name was Gordon Freeman. He was 27—almost 28—and he was somehow inside of the Black Mesa facility with no memories of how he even got there. It didn’t calm him down, but practice made better. His eyes skimmed over the locker room again. Everything was exactly the way Gordon remembered it.</p><p>It had been a month since… Since Benry happened. A month since Gordon and the Science Team™ escaped out into the New Mexico wilderness a few miles out from the facility itself. All that time and Black Mesa had only bothered to remove the bodies. The nametag on the lockers were all the same still, a small detail that Gordon found inexplicably infuriating. Dr. Coomer’s, Dr. Bubby’s, and Tommy’s lockers stared back at Gordon. His own locker was still there, of course, although it was open from the process of destroying his Passport. The photo of Joshua was taped to the inside of the locker. <em>A bit shit</em>, he remembered Benry calling it.</p><p>With a moment’s hesitation Gordon pushed himself back up to his feet and moved over to his locker. It’s was a good photo of Joshua, despite what Benry had said. The picture had been put up years ago, when Gordon had first started working at the facility. He reached out with an unsteady hand and pulled it down. The action felt sacrilegious.</p><p>Gordon had been trying to move on from the events of Black Mesa since they were free, but when presented with a very physical manifestation of that progression he couldn’t seem to swallow the bitter pill. Nothing else in his locker had held much in the way of sentimental value. A copy of his high school diploma seemed a bit trite when he had the original at home. Nothing here was worth coming back for. Nothing except for the photo, maybe.</p><p>He took a step back and tried Dr. Bubby’s locker. Locked. As was Tommy’s and Dr. Coomer’s. An expected, but ultimately disappointing outcome.  </p><p>Notes of a song had suddenly rose into the air. They were high pitched, melodic, and almost comforting. It pulled Gordon’s attention away from staring absently at the handle of Dr. Coomer’s locker. His adrenaline spiked and Gordon reached for a gun he didn’t have holstered anymore. He knew what it was, but logically he couldn’t process the idea of someone being in Black Mesa with the Sweet Voice. Movement in the corner of his eye was enough to convince Gordon to get the fuck out of here.</p><p>He sprinted full tilt back towards the entrance, breath coming in ragged pants within the first few seconds. The initial spook had done more to his heartrate than he had thought. A part of Gordon desperately wanted to look back. To see whatever it was fully. Somehow, though, he knew it’d shake his already tentative grip on reality. Whatever he would see would weaken the chains he was using to cling to normalcy.</p><p>Another burst of Sweet Voice reached his ears just as he crossed the threshold outside, and he risked a look back. A large risk for so little reward. Just a glimpse of dark navy blue against ghastly pale. Familiar. Haunting. <em>Benry</em>.</p><p>***</p><p>A week later Gordon woke up to Sunkist excitedly leaping off of the sofa and barking at the sliding glass doors of the back yard. It was starting to become an ingrained part of Gordon’s day, enough that his could set his clock by it. He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about but with the amount of sweat gathered at the back of his neck he’s pretty sure he should be thankful for his routine. He looked over towards the source of Sunkist’s excitement and saw Tommy latch the gate behind himself, dressed in a lab coat and waving. Right on time.</p><p>A lazy wave was given back before he pushed himself up from the sofa, shuffling over to the sliding doors where Sunkist was excitedly sweeping the floor for him with his tail. Gordon unlocked it and pushed the door aside, almost being knocked off his feet as the dog turned into a projectile.</p><p>“Oh, Sunkist!”</p><p>Tommy’s voice rung out through the back yard, becoming muffled as he scooped up the giant golden lab. It was incredible to see the casual strength that Tommy possessed firsthand. Gordon had tried to pick up the dog a few times and nearly threw out his back. Sunkist had to weigh at least 150 pounds. “Thank you for watching Sunkist for me, Mr. Freeman. He doesn’t like to be left alone at home.”</p><p>It was hard to fight off the lazy smile that came to his face. Tommy was always a breath of fresh air. That constantly upbeat attitude and politeness never failed to smooth out some of Gordon’s rougher edges. He was the only one of the Science Team™ that Gordon could honestly say made him smile without any effort.</p><p>“No problem, Tommy. What have you and your dad been working on anyways?”</p><p>That was the wrong question to ask, apparently. Tommy’s eyes avoided his and he shifted his weight, letting the silence hang.</p><p>“Well we uh- uhm, we need to fix the server rooms for Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit. It’s a lot, Mr. Freeman.”</p><p>Oh. So, Tommy was part of the team that was fixing Black Mesa. Gordon was sure that with the amount of deaths involved the whole thing would’ve been scrapped. Another facility abandoned for those urban explorer types to make their sweet, sweet YouTube money off of. That would be the much more preferable alternative, in Gordon’s opinion. Too many good people had died for no reason in that place. The entirety of the United States’ military as well, according to Dr. Coomer.</p><p>“Well, let me know if you want any help with that.”</p><p>It was an entirely disingenuous offer, but Gordon was otherwise lost for words. If he never saw Black Mesa again it’d be too soon. It showed up often enough in his nightmares anyway. He understood that Black Mesa was everything to Tommy, though. Wikipedia’s sever rooms were an important source of information and apparently Tommy had read all of it. Gordon couldn’t blame the other man for missing it. Sometimes he found himself wishing for the repetitive monochrome of his work life before the Cascade.</p><p>Tommy shifted his weight, adjusting Sunkist who seemed more than happy to be held like a literal baby. That was enough to break Gordon out of his awkward introspection.</p><p>“Okay, Mr. Freeman. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>Gordon shadowed Tommy as he left, closing the gate behind him. His own inability to keep up a dialogue brought bile up in his throat. Tommy was the easiest to talk to and yet here he was, utterly incompetent. He rubbed his face with a hand, resolving to open up to his therapist more about this new development.</p><p>***</p><p>His breath fogged against the HEV suit’s glass visor, obscuring his vision. Every muscle in his body burned with exertion. The tension in his body made him feel taut like a bow string. It was a bone-deep exhaustion he had once gotten used to. He couldn’t remember what was running towards or running from, just that his legs needed to keep moving. That he needed to keep moving forward or he would die. The surroundings reminded him of Xen; greying alien landscapes and the expanse of space in the backdrop. Except there’s so much viscera. Pools of blood and gore sucked at his feet like quicksand and he was constantly pulling himself from near falls. The constant close encounters would have scraped his palms bloody if he wasn’t wearing the suit.</p><p>It was just another nightmare. Gordon knew that, somewhere in the back of his consciousness. The cloistering fear and rabbit-time thump of his heartbeat didn’t benefit from the knowledge, however. He figured the nightmares would be more manageable. That they would cut the same place over and over again until they lost their edge by dulling against bone. He had never been that lucky. It was never the same memory twice, if it was even a memory at all.</p><p>When he didn’t relive the twist of the knife severing tendons and exposing joints to the recycled air of the facility, his mind played tricks on him like this. When he wasn’t crushed into a corner by the Coomer clones as they clawed at the open spot in his suit, he ran through corridors of his own creations from monsters he made for himself.</p><p>Right now Gordon was viscerally aware of the fact that was being hunted. Toyed with. The lack of bullets peppering his HEV suit and the surrounding landscape led him towards an exasperating conclusion. This was another nightmare about Benry. Gordon’s consciousness, and apparent unconsciousness, couldn’t get enough of him. As if his sudden reappearance in real life wasn’t enough.</p><p>He wrestled just enough control over his legs to stop, stumbling to a graceless halt. Maintaining just enough control, Gordon whipped around to face the thing chasing him. Only to be greeted by empty air. His chest was heaving from the effort and his eyes darted around the confines of the room he was in. Cavernous walls of dubious structural integrity loomed over him. Benry rarely manifested in his dreams, just the consequences of his actions. It didn’t lessen the feeling of being watched.</p><p>“Benry!” Gordon’s voice echoed without a response. When it died down to nothing he tried again, undeterred. “Benry you motherfucker, I know you’re there. Come the fuck out!”</p><p>That seemed to do it. The world around him shook and began to crumble, falling into literal nothingness. Not even the star and nebula-speckled sky. Just inky void. Gordon took a hesitant step back; fear being replaced with confusion. Another step back and he had almost prepared to turn back around and run. Whatever the void encroaching on his dreams was, it couldn’t be good. Gordon felt icy cold hands on his shoulders, his plans to escape cut short. That was impossible. He was in the suit. He could feel the gloves against his palms. All thoughts were scattered to the wind when he heard that voice, monotone and smug.</p><p>“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself lost, haven’tcha’ Feetman?”</p><p>Gordon Freeman awoke in a cold sweat, the back of his neck plastered with a greasy mix of his own sweat and hair. His chest was heaving. The duvet was a comforting weight against him even if he couldn’t see his surroundings. He was home. He was safe. Neither of those ideas persuade him back to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Airlock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gordon is grasping at straws. Stay tuned for the next chapter where things get even worse!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon’s life had become something of a pattern outside of Black Mesa. Money in the triple digits had been dropped into his account, assumedly to pay for his silence. As anyone in the world would have believed that a 27-year-old man and a bunch of elderly scientists had defeated the entire United States’ military and then some. It was enough to keep him going for a few years if he spent it wisely. So, with no need for a job, and a stunning lack of a desire for one, Gordon achieved a kind of laziness he hadn’t realized was possible. Days blurred together as he slept, awoke from a nightmare, binge ate, slept, and did anything he could to keep his mind in one piece.</p><p>His aspirations of becoming a Justin.tv streamer had fallen to the wayside when any form of motivation to do <em>anything</em> disappeared. The signs were all there, but it still took Gordon an unfortunate amount of time to realize that he was depressed. Warranted or not, he viewed it as a despised weakness. His therapist had been encouraging when he brought it up, reminding him to do small things to rebuild a routine. He was supposed to cook meals instead of putting things in the microwave, supposed call Maria and at least try to talk to her about Joshua. He succeeded some of the time.</p><p>Maria had been pissed about the missed phone calls. From his time trapped at Black Mesa she hadn’t heard anything from him for almost two whole weeks. The weekend had rolled around, his turn to watch Joshua, and he hadn’t called to confirm. Then he hadn’t been there to meet her and pick Joshua up. To say that she had been furious was an understatement.</p><p>One of the first things Gordon had done after getting out was to call her to try to explain everything. But, of course, he struggled with his words. ‘Sorry for being an absent parent, I had to shoot an eldritch abomination to pieces and that took a while’ wouldn’t cut it. Joshua was devastated by the missed weekend at his father’s house and was holding onto that grudge as much as a four-year-old could. Unofficially his parental rights had been revoked until he could convince Maria that he wasn’t going to pull another stunt like that again.</p><p>Over a month of not seeing his kid was starting to get to Gordon. His biweekly phone calls with Joshua had been discontinued as well. Just another drop in the bucket of things that Gordon had to be depressed about. More things that haunted the darker corners of his mind. At least taking care of Sunkist gave him something to wake up for on the weekdays.</p><p>It set a schedule that would get up for, even if he did end up sleeping every moment he wasn’t feeding, watering, or playing with the dog. Tommy saw him every morning, so he at least had to brush his teeth and shower. He had to spend time outside in the backyard when Sunkist decided he wanted to use his energy to play fetch or tug or whatever struck his fancy. He understood, and was told by his therapist, that going outside was one way to combat depression. Gordon wasn’t sure he could do it by himself, however.</p><p>Gordon’s internal dialogue had run itself dry at that point and he let out a heavy sigh. There was no excuse in keeping up the one-sided staring contest he was having with his landline. He’d call Maria after lunch, he promised himself with the resignation he promised himself most things. <em>He’d cook today. He’d smile at himself in the mirror. He’d try, try, try.</em></p><p>He would have to try to strike up a friendly conversation and ease his way into talking to Joshua. It all reminded him of when he and Maria had first parted. It hadn’t been amicable at first. Gordon had to convince Maria that, yes, he really did love his kid and wanted to see him. Even if he didn’t keep Joshua full-time. That he couldn’t keep Joshua first time. That yes, it was another work thing. He was busy all the time, Maria, he couldn’t help it. Black Mesa demanded so much from him. <em>Practically an arm and a leg.</em></p><p>His own cynical internal narrative reared back up, bringing bile in its wake. Gordon stood up from the sofa suddenly, spooking Sunkist from where he had been dozing at Gordon’s feet. Staying in his head any longer was not an option. Tommy had encouraged Gordon to buy a leash and harness for Sunkist if he ever wanted to take the dog on a walk. He never had, until right now. When the anxiety in his limbs was outweighing his desire to sleep and let it all fade away. Even nightmares could be preferable to the numb weight of reality.</p><p>He grabbed the keys off the hook in front of the door and slipped some shoes on without socks, knowing that they’d chafe the back of his heels. At the moment Gordon was finding it difficult to think about future problems. Sunkist was already pressing at the door, vibrating with anticipation. Gordon had to forcibly lift each paw as he slipped the harness under him and clipped it, connecting the leash. He opened the door and braced with his entire being, expecting Sunkist to pull him off his feet. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see Sunkist sitting at the edge of the door’s step, staring back at him expectantly as he locked the door.</p><p>It set a good precedent for the walk. Gordon wasn’t being dragged along, but Sunkist never stopped to sniff anything long enough for him to get lost in his own head. He hadn’t really walked around the neighborhood since he first scouted the place out. It was a nice area, close enough to his work for the commute not to kill him and there was a playground nearby. Very… Suburban. All of the houses in the neighborhood looked practically identical to his own; well-manicured lawns with the occasional flower garden in the front, no crazy colors, and an assortment of decently new cars. Everything about it screamed upper middle class.</p><p>On self-conscious reflection, he was kind of glad he chose the middle of a Wednesday afternoon to have a mild anxiety attack. Practically no one was around to see his mindless shamble on the outskirts of their lawn. Gordon was pretty sure that in his <em>The Wiggles</em> shirt and sweatpants with his hair down he looked homeless. At least he had fallen asleep wearing a shirt. Some people may be comfortable exercising half-nude, but Gordon wasn’t one of them.</p><p>Time quickly became a nebulous concept to Gordon as he wasn’t quite sure how long the walk went on. He hadn’t the presence of mind to grab his phone before rushing out the door, and it wasn’t as if he knew how long it would typically take him to walk the block. Sunkist brought him around the neighborhood probably five or six times, but everything was so same-y that keeping track was beyond his current mental abilities.</p><p>It was just nice to be forced out of his head. He was constantly processing the stimulus of the houses passing by him, and of Sunkist’s firm and gentle guidance forward. Eventually Sunkist, despite his limitless energy, had enough and lead the two of them with purpose towards a destination. A destination that Gordon was not on the same page about, embarrassingly enough. He spent an awkward few moments wondering why they were idling in front of a random person’s house before realizing that, nope, it was his house. Somehow, he had managed to turn his brain completely off. Nobody was home up there, apparently.</p><p>Gordon fiddled with his keys, likely appearing to be a drunkard for his ineptitude, before the door opened. Sunkist was unharnessed and the messy noise of him drinking filled the house. Despite the potential wet floor hazard, Gordon was terribly appreciative of the dog. Appreciative of Tommy’s somehow keen awareness of what he needed despite Gordon’s inability to ask. He stepped out of his shoes, wincing as the tender flesh was exposed to fresh air. That was going to be a problem for later.</p><p>He made his way over to the couch, settling down. The TV served as a momentary distraction, his darkened and warped reflection staring back at him. He looked exhausted. Wane. So many nights in a row where he had woken up trembling had caught up to him. If Maria saw him how he was now… Gordon averted his gaze, unintentionally leading it right back to where he had started. The landline phone was an outdated thing, but with how often Gordon forgot his phone at work it was an auspicious part of the home.</p><p>The walk hadn’t helped him to muster up any more courage than before and he sure as hell felt like he was going to puke just thinking about dialing Maria’s number. History once more repeated itself as Gordon sat there, doing the exact thing he didn’t want to do and feeling like a failure for it. The only reprieve came when Sunkist had finally cooled down and came over to pressure Gordon into a petting session. It was one of the many reasons he agreed to watch the dog in the first place. He couldn’t be bothered to actually keep a dog—too much maintenance—but Sunkist was oddly perceptive. His hands carded through the silky-soft fur on the back of the dog’s neck as he once again allowed his thoughts to consume him.</p><p>Mending things with Joshua and Maria should’ve the most important things on his mind right now. Instead, he was stuck. Trapped by his own indecision. He hadn’t even realized he was balling up his hand until Sunkist yelped and pulled away, looking wounded. Okay. That’s enough. Gordon forced himself to stand, reaching out to steady himself on the arm of the couch. One step. Then another. He literally had to coach himself using baby steps to get there, but he got there.</p><p>By the time he made it over to the phone he could hear the gritting of his own teeth. He could feel way his lips had pulled back into a grimace. He felt pathetic, probably looked it too. Sunkist remained blessedly silent about the whole affair, thankfully. Gordon picked the phone off of the receiver and listened to the dial tone for some time, rooted in place by the monotone hum. Eventually he brought a hand up to the dial pad and punched in the numbers. It rung. Gordon nearly slammed the phone down onto the receiver right then and there with the way his heart dropped. Somehow the anxiety of actualizing the call was worse than the buildup. He wasn’t allowed to sit in that headspace long before the tone was suddenly cut off, replaced with the noise of shifting fabric.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>Maria’s voice was one of many things that Gordon had fallen for. Before they had divorced, before now, just the sound of it had made his heart skip in an entirely different way. They had met at MIT. She was studying organic chemistry and they had just so happened to share a few prerequisites. From the first moment he saw her he thought he was in love. Now, with time and distance, he knew that her charm affected everyone. Maria was a beautiful woman with enough confidence to draw anyone in, just untouchable that so few had tried to get close. But Gordon was persistent enough to catch her attention. Persistent enough for her to say yes when he asked if she’d like to get coffee some time. Persistent enough to ask for her hand in marriage two years after that first date. And then stubborn enough to ruin it all in two months, when they had both realized neither of them wanted to be stay-at-home parents. When Gordon put his work above his wife and soon to be born child.</p><p>No wonder everyone else was moving on without him.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>Maria’s voice rang out a second time, more impatient than before. Gordon belatedly realized that he had just been breathing into the phone like an asthmatic creep.</p><p>He cleared his throat clumsily before speaking, “uh, Maria. Hey.”</p><p>The silence on the other end of the phone threw his heart into his throat. A few sentences—even an apology--started, died, and were tried again before he simply gave up. Silence ruled for far too long before being broken by Maria’s exasperated sigh.</p><p>“You want Joshua to come over this weekend, right?” Gordon gnawed on his lip for a moment before nodding. Then realizing she couldn’t see it.</p><p>“Yeah, if that’s okay.” There’s another pause as he hears her shift the phone.</p><p>“Let me ask him, okay? It’s ultimately his decision.”</p><p>He could hear as she set the phone down and walked away, calling Joshua away from his toys. A muffled conversation occurred, one he was sure he was intentionally not left privy to, before the phone was picked back up again. Joshua hadn’t quite grasped where the phone should be held and Gordon is left to assume that the static on the other end is Joshua’s cheek becoming quite acquainted with the receiver. Eventually, though, Maria corrected their son and finally an intelligible word came through.</p><p>“Daddy!”</p><p>The lump that had been altering his breathing suddenly subsided and he exhaled harshly, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips.</p><p>“Hey Joshie,” he started softly, “sorry that daddy has been busy. Something bad happened at work but now it’s all over. Did mommy explain it to you?”</p><p>An affirming grunt came from the other end of the line. That’d have to be good enough to work with. “Do you want to come to daddy’s house this weekend?”</p><p>Joshua, after a heart-wrenching pause, mumbled something too quiet to understand. At first Gordon was sure it was a <em>no</em>, but he could hear Maria coaching their kid to try again. The next time Joshua speaks—self-conscious and close-to-tears—an unstable “uh-huh” wobbles through the line and Gordon has to hold back the sigh of relief. At least he could see his kid this weekend.</p><p>***</p><p>Gordon didn’t understand why Dr. Coomer and Dr. Bubby made such a big deal of inviting him over if it was just going to be the four of them. The two scientists had moved in together immediately following their escape and apparently lived in perfect domestic bliss. Gordon wouldn’t have guessed that Dr. Coomer’s constant upbeat attitude and Dr. Bubby’s acerbic nature would result in such harmony. That just went to show what he knew about relationships. Gordon took another sip of his second beer, trying to nurse it a little better than the first. Food hadn’t even been served and yet he was already on his second bottle.</p><p>From the moment he arrived until then, Gordon had secluded himself on the patio. It was small and pre-built but matched perfectly with Dr. Coomer’s Hawaiian shirt. Dr. Coomer adopted the dad aesthetic better than Gordon ever had, and he wasn’t even sure if the other man had children. Either way, the patio and its minimal shade provided a good view of the other members of the Science Team™ as they stood around the grill and discussed… Something.</p><p>He really wasn’t paying enough attention to know what it was, but there was enough gesticulating to know that a heated conversation was occurring. Sunkist was laying by his feet after getting his tail stepped on one too many times by the others as they moved about. Or maybe, Gordon secretly hoped, the dog actually liked him.</p><p>Tommy had only asked him Wednesday, as he was picking up Sunkist, if Gordon was doing anything Thursday afternoon. Dr. Coomer and Dr. Bubby wanted to hold another little get together. The third one in as many weeks. It would have been a lie to say no, so here he was; watching as the three other scientists conversed without him. This exile was self-imposed, of course, but not out of spite. He just didn’t know what the fuck to say to anyone anymore. How’s he doing? Bad. Not that he can say that. Any big plans? No, not really.</p><p>Every conversation led to a dead end. Gordon leaned down to idly pet Sunkist, who stood up to press into the touch. It seemed as though the conversation on the other side of the backyard had died down and the smell of cooking meat took its place. He had eaten before coming over, unsure if the others knew about his dietary restrictions. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t really here for the food. Spending time around the others was refreshing. Even if they were loud as hell.</p><p>***</p><p>Gordon woke up on Dr. Coomer and Dr. Bubby’s couch, a blanket having been thrown over him and a small pillow wedged under his head. He had decided to stay the night since the last thing he needed was a DUI and the two scientists had seemed almost delighted when he had asked. Tommy, however, had left. Gordon could vaguely remember something about him being needed that Thursday and that he was sorry he couldn’t be part of the sleepover.</p><p>Yeah, sleepover. It wasn’t Gordon didn’t want to go back home to an empty house where he’d wake up from a nightmare at a random time. That he’d have to drink alone in order to force himself back to sleep. He couldn’t remember if he dreamed last night, but the slight headache from not having had any water with his alcohol might’ve been the reason why.</p><p>From the kitchen the clatter of pots and pans made him aware of the location of the other men. Breakfast was to be served. From the sound of it, Dr. Coomer was doing all the work while Bubby playfully criticized him. Apparently, Dr. Coomer’s pancake flipping was not up to code.</p><p>Gordon forced himself to get up, running his tongue along his grimy teeth. He hadn’t brushed them last night and he wouldn’t be able to brush them until he got home. Nasty. He shuffled over to the guest bathroom to relieve himself, accidently making eye contact with the mirror was he went to wash his hands. He hadn’t had a problem with acne since MIT. Not since when stress and bad eating culminated into the occasional breakout. Now, there were numerous little bumps on his forehead where his hair sometimes got loose of his ponytails. They were too small to be zits, but Gordon knew an obvious sign of deterioration when he saw one. That, and the dark bruises he had under his eyes. He didn’t look any better than he did when he left Black Mesa. Worse, maybe. He heaved a sigh and removed his glasses, splashing water on his face. The seashell decorative hand towel was put to use as he dried himself off, frowning at the disheveled way his hair hung. That’s what he got for not bringing an extra hair tie. He always managed to lose them.</p><p>The walk over to the kitchen island was a short one and he was seated next to Bubby before had time to overthink it. Gordon took a look at the other man, always dressed at least business casual. Despite the constant heat, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bubby in a pair of shorts. Something of a blessing in disguise, probably. A cup of pitch-black coffee is placed in front of him. Delicious bean juice and nectar of the gods.</p><p>“Thanks Dr. Coomer,” his reply was instantaneous. This was met with a good-natured huff of a laugh from the scientist.</p><p>“You can call me Harold, Gordon. We’re not coworkers anymore,” Dr- … Harold said, bemused at Gordon’s need for formalities.  </p><p>Gordon sent a glance over to Bubby, eyebrows raised. Dr. Bubby’s reaction was instant; a scowl followed by a sip of his coffee.</p><p>“Don’t look at me, Freeman, I didn’t get information injected into me for fifteen years not to be called ‘doctor’.” Noted.</p><p>Silence stretched between the three of them, easier for some than it was for others. Gordon felt like something of a voyeur to watch their morning routine without directly contributing. He sipped his coffee in silence, watching and waiting.</p><p>“What do you want for breakfast, Gordon?”</p><p>Dr. Coomer’s ability to keep a conversation flowing seemed to be one of the only saving graces in their relationship. Gordon wasn’t exactly ever a prime conversationalist and often had little to say in any meaningful capacity. He cleared his throat and peered around the scientist in the kitchen, trying to see what was already being made. It seemed like an entire breakfast buffet was coming their way. He felt kind of bad about asking for special accommodations.</p><p>“Just some toast and uh- two sunny-side up eggs. Could you make them in another pan? I can’t eat them if they’ve been…” Both scientists turned to look at him as he struggled for a word that wasn’t ‘tainted’. “I’m Jewish. I can’t eat them if the pan has been used to make non-kosher things.” The words tumbled out of his mouth like a collapsing building and Gordon winced, waiting for the impact.</p><p>Dr. Coomer merely nodded his head with an, “of course, Gordon!” And that was the end of that.</p><p>He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This was a good start to the morning. He needed this if he was going to clean the house. Then pick up groceries that weren’t toaster pastries or cereal. Then get ready to pick up Joshua and actually start acting like an adult, even if it was just for two days. Just for two days… The day hadn’t even started yet and already Gordon felt like Atlas.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Contact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gordon finally gets to spend some time with his son, but like most things in his life that gets fucked up too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Fernbee for betaing this time around. By the way, I commissioned art for this since I physically cannot help myself. Find it here: https://julestheaverage.tumblr.com/post/619031144255700992/commission-for-hottestpairofshadesyouknow-for</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon woke up early on a Saturday for the first time in a while. The default tone for his alarm blared cantankerously until he had the presence of mind to shut it off. Black Mesa had left him a lighter sleeper than before. His subconscious had accepted the very real threat of a headcrab or US marine sneaking up on him with surprisingly little fuss. Which is why he was mildly shocked to see he had woken up two minutes late and not immediately. His digital alarm read 7:42 AM, which, in his humble opinion, was an absolutely terrible time to be getting up on the weekend.</p><p>Gordon pushed himself into a sitting position with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t feel like he slept at all, despite having gone to bed early with the intention of being well rested. As well rested as he ever was these days. For how much he slept in quantity and how little he did daily he figured he’d have more energy. No dice. Human bodies rarely made the kind of concrete sense he’d prefer.</p><p>He went through his morning hygiene routine; taking a brief shower and brushing his teeth. Maria was too perceptive of him. He couldn’t show up to the meeting spot looking as bad as he had the past few days. At least some effort had to be put into his appearance this time around. No <em>Wiggles </em>shirt, despite how comfortable they were. This time around he selected a pair of nicer jeans and a button up. She did say he always looked good in plaid.</p><p>The jeans were a lot snugger around his hips and thighs than he would have liked, but he already knew he had been gaining weight. He just hadn’t realize it had been so much so quickly. Whatever. If he dawdled any longer he’d be late to pick up Joshua.</p><p>Going on an empty stomach hadn’t been a particularly good idea but when Gordon pulled into the parking lot for the playground between his and Maria’s house—thirty minutes from either of them—he was glad he hadn’t stopped. His dashboard read 8:52. Only a few minutes early. There were a lot of things that he was willing to be late for, but seeing his kid wasn’t one of them. He stepped out of the car and was greeted by the sound of children playing. The park they had chosen to meet at always had at least a few people around on the weekends. A sort of buffer that they both needed.</p><p>The meeting spot that he and Maria had agreed upon was almost smack dab in the middle between the two of them. A small bridging town that didn’t show up on maps unless they were locally printed. It served them just fine. Joshua loved to go to new places right now and they had been doing this custody song and dance for long enough that he had made some friends in the area.</p><p>It was a relatively small area in comparison to the rest of the park that it was situated within. Recycled tired served as the base for the ground, but there were plenty of places where kids had dug down to the layer of sand and soil underneath. An assortment of slides, swings, and things to climb on were haphazardly strewn about. There was no real sense of rhyme or reasoning to the design of the playground. But it wasn’t as if any of the kids cared.</p><p>His eyes scanned for Maria’s outline amongst the bustle and he found her sitting on a park bench not far from a game of tag. These days they tended to wear their hair in a similar way although she always managed to look more professional with it up. His hair refused to cooperate with any means of keeping it out of his face.</p><p>She was writing something down onto a notebook while occasionally glancing up to ensure Joshua hadn’t strayed too far. She’s still intimidating just to walk up to, maybe more so than when they were perfect strangers, but he does. When she glanced up he found himself instantly averting his eyes to see what Joshua was doing. Still playing tag. Right.</p><p>“Hey Mar-,” he was cut off instantly as her no-nonsense tone refused his awkwardness.</p><p>“Gordon, you look like shit. What happened?”</p><p>He ran his fingers through his hair, stopping once he realized that it’d fuck up the tight ponytail he pulled it into. Instead he moved to sit next to her on the other side of the bench, giving at least a foot of clearance between them. She stared at him expectantly and he wasn’t really sure how to answer.</p><p>“I- there was an incident at work. When things in Black Mesa fuck up, they fuck up <em>bad</em>. I can’t really tell you, I’m under NDA.”</p><p>Maria nodded her head, never dropping the concerned expression. He wasn’t really under NDA specifically about the Resonance Cascade, but it was a hell of a lot easier to say that than try to explain that he fought aliens. And then fought an eldritch abomination that was pretending to be a security guard. Then went to Chuck E Cheese with the rest of the Science Team™ at gunpoint from another eldritch abomination? Or something? Thinking about it too hard still gave him a migraine.</p><p>“I know- you explained it to me, just…” Maria pinched her lips, looking torn. “You haven’t looked this bad since we started dating. I know you want to see Joshua but were you in any shape to be taking care of a four-year-old?” <em>Since you can’t take care of yourself</em> hung heavily between them, unsaid but implied.</p><p>Gordon forced himself to bite back the nauseating wave of vitriol that had become all too common in his reactions. He shouldn’t snap at her just because she was reasonably worried about their child.</p><p>“I can, yes. I just need to get back into the swing of things. Find another job or-,” She cut him off again, reigniting his pissy attitude.</p><p>“You were fired?”</p><p>Her incredulous tone was almost enough to spark shame. He had come to terms with the fact that the Resonance Cascade probably wasn’t any of his fault, but the doubt always lingered. How many people died that hadn’t needed to that day?</p><p>Something must show on his face since she backed off immediately.</p><p>“I’m sorry I just… Joshua was practically inconsolable. I’m still very upset with you about this.”</p><p>Their conversation was cut short as Joshua came running over, his hands and knees already dirty from playing. His excited chanting of <em>daddy!</em> was a balm on the wound that this conversation opened. Gordon stood and picked Joshua up once he was close enough, lifting him into the air. Joshua clung to his neck and excitedly babbled about the game he had been playing. Between the quick pace that Joshua was speaking at and the fact that he was almost strangling Gordon, the words were a little hard to make out. He just laughed and hugged his son back, overwhelmed with joy.</p><p>“Hey Joshie. I missed you too, buddy.”</p><p>Eventually Joshua broke the hug and was put down, maintaining a tight hold on Gordon’s hand. Gordon sent a glance back to Maria to see her watching with a pensive look. She obviously wanted to say something, but right now Gordon’s attention was solely on Joshua. He took a knee and met Joshua’s eyes, summoning up a smile he actually felt.</p><p>“What did you and mommy do while I was away?”</p><p>***</p><p>His first day of having Joshua was entirely exhausting. There were only so many things an adult man could do to entertain a four-year-old before turning on the TV was a viable strategy. Of course Gordon wanted to keep playing pretend, house, or whatever it was that’s captured Joshua’s attention at the moment, but the energy he hadn’t had in the first place didn’t magically appear. Bedtime came shortly after dinner and both of them were too worn out to protest. Gordon hadn’t ever been much of a cook, but he’d lived by himself and had to supply for his kid long enough to get a lot of the basics down. You could never go wrong with some oven-baked mac and cheese.</p><p>Joshua was tucked into bed with the usual stuffed animals that were kept over at his house. They were an eclectic sort, some won at fairs or simply picked up on a whim when Gordon thought they were cute. Each and every one were individually wished goodnight and given a kiss on the forehead. After an hour of quiet Gordon slipped into the kitchen, feeling sure that Joshua was asleep for the night. There was a set of nice whiskey and wine glasses that he kept for those increasingly rare special occasions. It’s not that kind of a night. He reached for the highest shelf, above the fridge and a real bitch to get to even with his height, pulling down a single malt scotch. The cap was removed, and he took a swig, feeling only a vague sense of guilt for drinking while watching his kid.</p><p>He noticed that drinking stopped the nightmares. Or, if he had them, he didn’t wake up panting in the middle of the night. He had already promised himself that it’d be nothing more than a nightcap. Just enough to be tipsy and pass the hell out. And anyway, it’d be a waste to chug the scotch. It was a present he had gotten during some party. A birthday or secret Santa gift. He couldn’t remember anymore.</p><p>Standing in the kitchen drinking was kind of a pathetic way to end the night so Gordon settled down on the couch with the bottle and a thick, blue journal. He hadn’t gotten around to reading that month’s International Journal of Theoretical Physics. The subscription had followed him through MIT and at this point he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He hadn’t ever sent money in, as far as he was aware, and it followed him through two address changes. Gordon opened it to the table of contents and skimmed the thing, his eyes and brain immediately disregarding all attempts at processing the information. Okay… He heaved a sigh and tried again, forcing himself to read each and every individual title.</p><p><em>Spin Squeezing in Two-Species Bose-Einstein Condensate</em>. Sure. He could read that. The page was flipped to and Gordon took his time reading over the contents of the abstract and first few pages. The regular breaks he took to sip from the scotch weren’t helping his concentration, but he figured that if he actually gave a shit about the contents then he could always go back to read over it with a sober mind. At the moment, though, it was just something to keep him busy until he felt tipsy enough to sleep.</p><p>The process became calming enough to lose track of time. That’s a very bad thing when he realized he was dozing off with the journal still in his lap and the bottle wide open on the living room table. Gordon stood, grunting quietly as a few bones popped from the strange position he had been napping in. The world melted and shifted with him as he moved, sluggish and uncoordinated, unable to shake the daze from waking up. Yeah, definitely tipsy.</p><p>A glance out of the backyard doors encouraged a frown to Gordon’s face. He had lost quite a bit of time. It was pitch-black out, only somewhat lit up by the streetlamps outside. The journal is sat side, dogeared at the page he had left off on. The scotch was taken back over to the kitchen, capped, and replaced back into the high cupboard.</p><p>Gordon was in the middle of filling a cup with sink water when Joshua screamed. Alright slightly full of that day’s dinner mess, the cup ping ponged noisily on its way down as Gordon dropped it. He didn’t bother to wait to see if it shattered as he was already booking it over to his kid’s bedroom. He nearly tripped and ate shit on the way there but somehow managed to keep upright with a hand slammed against the hallway wall. If there was a burglar then they already knew someone else was home with the amount of noise he had already made. Not that Gordon cared.</p><p>‘<em>Oh god oh fuck</em>’ was the only thing going through Gordon’s mind. It’s a chant of pure desperation as he tore through the hallway, kicking open Joshua’s door and flipping on the light. A figure stood over Joshua’s bed, murmuring something to his kid in a voice too low and flat to hear. If Gordon had any presence of mind besides pure protective instinct and adrenaline, he would be able to identify the figure immediately. Instead, Gordon barreled into the figure from behind and wrapped an arm around its throat, pulling both of them to the ground. The scene instantly erupts into chaos once more as Joshua screamed again and the person- man he was wrestling with began to struggle in earnest.</p><p>Jesus fucking Christ was that guy strong. It took all of a minute for Gordon to be overpowered. He was flipped onto his stomach with an arm pinned to his back. A knee dug into his lower back to discourage any attempts at escape. It took almost a full minute of useless flailing before Gordon tired himself out enough to hear the concerned yet monotone voice above him.</p><p>“Bro, what the fuck was your problem?”</p><p>BENRY??? Gordon had only ever been this pissed when he woke up in a waste disposal pit without a hand, bleeding to death. His words oozed with vitriol through his teeth and he wished he could gut the security guard by just speaking.</p><p>“What the FUCK were you doing in my house, Benry?? Better yet, how the FUCK are you still alive? I killed your ass for good about a month ago.”</p><p>There was a pause before Benry spoke, almost sounding wounded.</p><p>“That’s not really a nice way to talk to your friend.”</p><p>Gordon had to immediately start counting so he didn’t explode again. His blood pressure was through the roof and he was pretty sure a vein was popping out somewhere.</p><p>“We’re. Not. Friends.”</p><p>He didn’t think he could grit his teeth any harder than before, but now he could hear the sounds of the enamel groaning under the pressure. The pinpoint pressure on his back was starting to seep through the alcohol and endorphins, warping into a bone crunching pain. Just how heavy was Benry?</p><p>Gordon huffed, “can you let me go? I’m pretty sure you scared the shit out of my son.”</p><p>It took a moment, but his request was fulfilled. He immediately pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Joshua. He was shoved into the furthest corner of his bed, sheets pulled up to his nose and sobbing quietly. Gordon reached forward to pull Joshua into his arms, the latter of whom attached to him like a koala. He really felt like a piece of shit for scaring his son, even if he didn’t have any control over the situation.</p><p>Glancing around he noticed that Benry had backed off, sitting on a toy chest and watching the two of them with a bored expression. He was still in his security guard outfit. Boots, helmet, even the vest. Gordon had to wonder if the other man simply didn’t have anything else to wear, or simply didn’t want to wear anything else.</p><p>Gordon lowered himself into a sitting position on the bed so Joshua could pitifully curl up against his side, the sobs becoming softer and softer as he cried himself out. He couldn’t help but lower the most poisonous possible towards Benry, who still looked as if he couldn’t give less of a fuck. After a few moments passed Gordon broke the silence.</p><p>“What the ff-,” and promptly had to spend a moment collecting himself in order to quit swearing in front of his kid, “<em>heck</em> was your problem, dude? I get it already, you're <em>insane</em>, but you didn’t have to bring Joshua into this.”</p><p>“I uh- didn’t know your kid was over.”</p><p>For once, Benry had the decency to look away in what Gordon hoped to be shame. That would be some much-needed character growth. It took a few moments for Gordon to process that statement and when he did, a cold chill went down his spine.</p><p>“Have you been sleeping in here?”</p><p>Deafening, damning silence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Integration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fuckin' Benry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joshua sat legs akimbo Gordon’s lap, digging for marshmallow in a bowl of rocky road ice cream. The hour was late, too late to be eating his body weight in sugar, but Gordon was frayed thin enough not to look a solution horse in its chocolate-smeared mouth. Once the kid had settled down enough to reach a consolable phase, bribery worked like a charm. A much better alternative to Maria calling Monday to interrogate him as to why Joshua was babbling about a strange man breaking into his bedroom. Assuming Joshua kept his side of the bargain, that was. Gordon had to pray. His arms stayed slung like untethered seatbelts around Joshua’s waist. He couldn't say for sure whether that was more of a comfort to his kid or himself.</p><p>The two of them were seated on the living room couch with Benry crouched in front of Gordon’s Disney collection. There were non-kid movies in there too, like Spaceballs, but it was mostly whatever Joshua was into at the moment. Before, Gordon didn’t exactly have the free time to curate a collection, much less watch it. Benry muttered in disapproval of the unfortunately tiny stash of video games. <em>You don’t even have Heavenly Sword?</em> The noise of his comments slid griplessly off of Gordon’s brain. It was only when Benry stood up that Gordon’s mind snapped back from wherever it had been wandering.</p><p>“Yo, where am I gonna sleep?”</p><p>That’s what he was afraid of. Of course Benry would want to stay the night, despite being so clearly unwelcome and already crowding an out-of-capacity abode. Gordon carded fingers through Joshua’s downy hair, startling his son out of his TV trance. He bent to look the kid in the eye.</p><p>“Is it okay if Benry stays here for the night?”</p><p>Benry opened his mouth to say something, but luckily the universal sign for ‘shut the fuck up’—a quick zipping motion across the lips, out of Josuha’s sight—was a violent enough motion to startle it shut. Joshua shifted aimlessly in Gordon’s lap, uncomfortable with being thrust into the spotlight.</p><p>“Mm, e‘s kinda scary.”</p><p>“Kinda scary? Why’s that?”</p><p>“Too many eyes.”</p><p>Gordon glanced over to Benry, eyebrows knitted. Benry didn’t meet his gaze.</p><p>“And his mouth didn’t do the right thing.”</p><p>Right. Okay.</p><p>“Does that mean he shouldn’t stay the night?”</p><p>Joshua fidgeted with the dairy-slick spoon, squeezing it rigidly between his pudgy fingers.</p><p>“He can stay. Only ‘cause he makes candy.”</p><p>Less okay. Perhaps the most unsettling thing Gordon ever heard come from his own son’s mouth. He snuck another surmising look at Benry, who at that moment was doing a lamentable job of pretending as though the pitch-black scene through the backyard doors was in any way interesting. He looked back down to Joshua and shook his head, lips pinched.</p><p>“Okay, were you done with your ice cream? We have to go back to bed.”</p><p>Joshua nodded his head with a quiet grunt. The bowl was taken from his son’s hands and placed onto the coffee table across from them. Joshua was once more picked up and his son’s arms did their best to wrap around his neck, just barely tangling dual fists in his hair. He took Joshua into the bedroom and deposited him back into bed. Hopefully for the last time that night.</p><p>Their same song and dance was repeated; Joshua was tucked in, given a kiss on the forehead, and then the rest of his stuffed animals were given the same treatment. Gordon closed the door most of the way behind himself, flicking off the hallway light and just standing there for a couple of minutes. Just in case, he told himself, just in case Joshua wanted anything.</p><p>That stopped being an excuse after five minutes and he hadn’t heard a single peep. He was just avoiding the inevitable confrontation with Benry. Trying to muster up enough courage to face an eldritch abomination in his own home. Oh joy. Gordon scrubbed his face with a hand, pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head. He heaved a massive sigh before shuffling into the living room.</p><p>Benry had the TV turned on with the PS3 booted up, looking through all of Gordon’s downloaded games. This, in reality, was Benry irritably holding down the left analogue stick to cycle through his only three games. Gordon stood in the hallway for a second before crossing the threshold and sitting on the couch near Benry. Not next to him, but there were only three cushions and Benry was the kind of person to sit in the middle.</p><p>“Candy?”</p><p>Gordon asked, the utter defeat in his voice apparently catching Benry off guard. Benry hummed in confirmation but Gordon pressed again.</p><p>“What the fuck did Joshua mean by ‘candy’?”</p><p>This time Benry turned to look at him.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, uh-,” Benry produces a single blue note of the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ and caught it with his hand, casually tossing it to Gordon. Gordon, who could feel a vessel bursts in his forehead.</p><p>“You- You fucking <em>drugged</em> my kid with your freaky tranquilizing bubble shit??”</p><p>It took a lot more self-control than Gordon would have liked to keep his words at just a hiss. He had to take a deep breath and tosses the blue orb aside, lowering his hands into his face. His throat burned, warring between throwing up and bursting out crying. Benry’s uncomfortable silence didn’t help at all.</p><p>“Why were you freaking out so bad? He’s fine, duh.”</p><p>Gordon didn’t even know where to begin with this. How could you explain to an alien that smaller humans have wildly different bodily reactions to things than larger humans? Explain that Joshua could be allergic to whatever compounds make up the Sweet Voice. He didn’t even know if it was toxic to the human body. Just because Gordon didn’t go into anaphylaxis didn’t mean his kid couldn’t have. Just… Eugh. Benry’s blessed silence came to an end all too soon into Gordon’s crisis.</p><p>“Wanna play some Little Big Planet 2?”</p><p>Gordon looked up from his hands, eyes meeting the menu screen of a game he didn’t even own ten minutes ago. With a second controller he had never seen before being offered to him.</p><p>“I- yeah, sure, Benry. I’ll play Little Big Planet with you.”</p><p>***</p><p>Gordon was almost one-hundred percent sure that not even Benry’s video game playing obeyed the laws of physics as he understood them. The number of times either of their characters went careening wildly off the screen couldn’t be the intended amount. He made jumps using the grappling hook that would’ve had the speed running community fall to their knees, weeping. Not that Gordon cared much. He could almost say he was having fun, if not for the dread and anxiety churning in his gut.</p><p>Eventually they called it quits when Gordon saw that the number on the clock has wrapped back around to a reasonable time for him to be waking up for work. He figured he’d just sleep as much as he could and take a nap when Joshua did.</p><p>“You can take the couch; I have some extra blankets and pillows.” A pause. “Do you even need to sleep? I’ve never seen you-,” he was cut off by Benry shaking his head with a simple ‘nope’.</p><p>“But I’m going to anyway. Sleepover at Feetman’s.”</p><p>“It’s not much of a sleepover when you’ve been sleeping here for… How long were you using that bedroom, Benry?”</p><p>Gordon moved to the bathroom to wash his face, letting his hair down for the first time all day. It was barely held together after his meeting with Maria. Joshua’s insistence to touch his hair after seeing how long it had grown while they were apart was the primary cause of that. He took a hairbrush to it while Benry meandered in the doorway of the bathroom, glancing around at the plain decor.</p><p>“Uhh- A week? Iunno.”</p><p>Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out a disbelieving echo of Benry’s words. A week. How badly he must have been slipping to not notice Benry using that room for a week. He brushed his teeth wordlessly, content to just let the conversation die off. That was a little difficult with the way that Benry lingered over his shoulder as he went through his nightly hygiene, but he still tried.</p><p>“Do you need to brush your teeth or take a shower or something?”</p><p>“Wha-? Yeah. Let me at that head and shoulders.”</p><p>Weird, but Gordon opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a spare towel and toothbrush. He lowered the toilet lid and placed the towel on top, handing the toothbrush directly to Benry.</p><p>“You can use my stuff, obviously. I’ll leave some clothes that should fit you outside the door.”</p><p>It would have to be something that Gordon had worn since MIT if he wanted any chance of it fitting Benry. The man was built like a brick shithouse. He left the bathroom, having to awkwardly squeeze past Benry who seemed to refuse to be anything except a nuisance. He closed the door behind himself and vaguely prayed that that would be the last he saw of Benry that night.</p><p>The sound of running water was a strangely comforting effect as Benry did one of the few human things Gordon had ever experienced him doing. No maniacal laugher or living through a hail of bullets with nothing more than a splatter of blood to show for it. Gordon could almost convince himself that Benry was just a normal man taking a shower. He moved into his bedroom and turned on the nightstand light, not wanting to chance waking up Joshua.</p><p>His clothes weren’t organized much. Work shirts and slacks were hung up in the closet while everything else was shoved into a hand-me-down dresser with no rhyme or reasoning. He dug around for a bit before selecting a pair of sweatpants and an old band t-shirt for Muse. That particular shirt had followed him from high school. One too many careless washes meant that the logo was faded almost to the point of obscurity. But it was wide, soft, and would probably fit Benry. Gordon deposited the clothes at the base of the bathroom door and went to the linen closet not far down the hall.</p><p>Gordon pulled down an old blanket, a cascade of dust following closely behind with it. A couple of pillows and their coverings sat on the highest shelf in a similar state of disuse. He’s pretty sure all of it could be traced back to his dorm at MIT. None of it had been moved since he started renting the house and put it there. He had to withhold a sneeze as he gently shook the blanket and a pillow out. He brought it all back out to the living room where he laid out the most basic bedding imaginable. A pillow on one end with the blanket laid out to cover the cushions and thrown over the back so Benry could pull it over himself like a burrito. Good enough.</p><p>Gordon headed to his bedroom, closing the door most of the way. He stripped down to just his underwear and threw the clothes into the hamper. The bed was a cool, soft retreat from the day’s events. His eyes shut and he allowed himself to relax with the sound of the shower still running in the background.</p><p>***</p><p>He woke up yet again to the knowledge that something was terribly wrong. In the mind-boggling darkness of his room he didn’t know what that could be. Until he registered another presence in his bed with him. Oh-fucking-kay. This was a little too far, even for Benry. Speaking of whom, Benry rolled over in the bed to face Gordon. <em>His eyes reflect light what the fuck</em>. Gordon internally flipped shit. Yellow dots peered back at him, like when he drove at night and a deer was on the side of the road. Watching. Judging. He scrabbled over to the edge of the bed, reaching out to turn on the nightstand’s lamp.</p><p>Yeah. It’s Benry. The other man was laying with his head propped up on an open palm, almost in that ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ pose. With hair to match apparently, shit. This was the first time Gordon had seen Benry outside of his work attire and it was more of a surprise than he had imagined. Benry looked a bit like a lion with the amount of mane he was sporting. Of course, it was all wet and soaking into the bed at the moment but even then, the amount of volume was astonishing. It went down to his mid-back at least and increased Benry’s silhouette by a few inches at the shoulders. The number of tangles suggested that he didn’t even brush it.</p><p>“Enjoying the view, Feetman?”</p><p>“Why the fuck were you in my bed, Benry.”</p><p>He didn’t bother to ask, knowing that he was going to get an entirely inane and nonsensible answer. Just an exasperated statement so he could dodge the horseshit of the previous question.</p><p>“Gotta tuck in the homies and kiss them goodnight.”</p><p>“I don’t-,” and that’s all Gordon got out before he was given a kiss on the forehead. An exact mirror image of how he kissed Joshua goodnight. Using that positioning, Benry leaned over him to turn off the light. And that was that, apparently. Gordon physically could not make himself stay up despite the fact that Benry kept playing footsie or some shit. Benry’s much colder foot was exploring Gordon’s calf and foot at random intervals, stealing away what little heat he had managed to accumulate. He fell asleep before long to the sound of Benry’s equally as slow breathing.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Infestation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Gordon's last day with Joshua for this week. Benry has a few things to say about that.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Thanks for sticking through this with me. This whole chapter is going to be in past tense since I finally figured out that that's what I want to do. Eventually I'll come back around and edit the rest of the chapters to be the same. Keep your eyes peeled if you care. Again, thank you to Hirae for your endless patience as I figure out how to write again. </p><p>After making this fic presentable to the light of day, I'll have a werewolf AU up. It'll be a lot longer and a lot darker.<br/>Thank you, the reader, for reading this fic!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This time it wasn’t to the blare of the alarm or Joshua’s insistent cry of “daddy” that Gordon woke up to. The bedroom was awash with sunlight, the heavy curtains having kept back what they could but ultimately allowing in the cascade of the day. Not a great sign. Benry was a warm presence against his side, limp and apparently fast asleep. In this morning’s confusion Gordon’s eyes wandered over to the alarm clock, reading out the digital lettering of 11:23 AM. A sudden jolt of adrenaline went through his body and he forced himself up and out of bed. Benry’s confused murmurings barely reached his ears as he tore down the hallway to Joshua’s room. He pushed the door open to peer inside. Empty. Panic, heavy as a steel weight, dropped into his stomach and almost forced him to his knees.</p><p>The only saving grace from losing his mind was the murmur of conversation coming from the living room’s TV. Simplistic colors, fractaling light like pieces of stained glass in the sun, spilled from the living room out into the hallway. They were a veritable breadcrumb trail that he used to find his way to his son. Sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, eyes glued to the TV with a PB&amp;J aimed in the general direction of his mouth, is Joshua. The PB&amp;J is half eaten and not so discreetly looking to have been cobbled together by messy hands and sticky fingers. There were a few tears where filling gushed out and threatens to stain his son’s pajamas with too careless a bite.</p><p>Joshua looked up at him, stupefied. An episode of Max &amp; Ruby was playing at half volume, louder than Gordon would have liked. The messy ring of his son’s mouth pulled into a crescent of a smile.</p><p>“Hi daddy!”</p><p>Despite everything, there’s few things that can move a smile to his face like seeing his son. Gordon breathed a sigh of relief. He came around the couch, crouching low to meet his son’s gaze.</p><p>“Hey, Joshie. Where’d you get the snack from?”</p><p>Joshua’s tongue poked out to catch some of the jam and peanut butter mixture, licking another glob full up onto his lips.</p><p>“Benny gave it to me!”</p><p>Benny- Ah, Benry. Gordon collected a napkin from the kitchen and returned, wetting it with a dab of his spit. He wiped around Joshua’s mouth to remove the sticky residue, whines and accompanying wiggles ignored.</p><p>“Why didn’t you wake up daddy instead?”</p><p>A thunderstorm of a pout was rolling in and Gordon could tell this was likely the last answer Joshua’s infantile capacity for interrogation could relinquish. Joshua looked him square in the eye for a moment, then went back to Max &amp; Ruby.</p><p>“Benny said you were very tired and needed to sleep.”</p><p>Well, that’s true enough. His impromptu gaming session last night had been a bad decision fueled by more than just alcohol. Not giving Berny what he wanted tended to be a recipe for disaster. That being said, the thought of Benry fielding his child’s requests to get his attention churned the bile in his stomach. He stood with a crackle of his knees that was just a few years too early to be healthy. Now that the world wasn’t falling down around him as he had assumed it was, Gordon figured he could at least get dressed for the day without another indicent. He shuffled back over to the bedroom to see Benry still on the left side of the bed, Gordon’s unlocked phone in his hands. There’s no helping the worn-out sigh he heaved.</p><p>“Why didn’t you wake me up when Joshua got up?”</p><p>Benry’s eyes had barely lifted from the phone before they paused, going slightly wide, then sweeping over Gordon in a downright dirty once-over.</p><p>“Nice bod bro, really fitting the dilf lifestyle.”</p><p>Gordon knew, objectively, that he could be considered an attractive man. Hearing it come from someone that he once considered his arch-nemesis put a certain spin to it that disallowed Gordon from keeping a straight face.</p><p>“Wh- What does that even mean?”</p><p>Benry, the dickhead, just snickered and returned his gaze back to invading Gordon’s privacy.</p><p>“I’m not kidding, Benry. Why didn’t you wake me up?”</p><p>“You fell asleep at like, three. No way you would’ve slept enough to deal with your shit kid.”</p><p>A wave of fury steadied Gordon’s thoughts, energy now having to be put towards denying himself the right to choke the other man out.</p><p>“Shit kid? Shit-,” his voice rose with slight hysteria before he squashed down that part of his brain like the parasite it was, “Benry, I see Joshua for less than 48 hours each week. I’ll give up a few hours of sleep if it means I can spend more time with him.”</p><p>A resentful feeling of disgust buried itself into his heart and he ghosted from the doorway’s threshold to the bathroom, feeling light on his feet from anger. He pushed himself past Benry, who had finally sat up straight to assess the damage he had caused. Whatever the other man said next glanced feebly off the shield of self-righteousness Gordon had constructed around his ego. The click of the bathroom door closing behind himself was a shroud of normalcy that he needed. Just for right now. Just for this moment.</p><p>He could hear the bed creak, old and handed-down as it was, over the sound of the tap running as Benry roused. Then, as Gordon’s life was a cascade of annoyances, a light and repetitive scraping on the door began. The imagery of Benry pawing at the door like a needy cat would be humorous if not for the fact that the man was at least six foot and well over 200 pounds. It was just disquieting. Enfeebling to his already cracking will as the ocean of his temper settled from its most recent storm.</p><p>It was not an easy task to ignore Benry, but Gordon set out with a stalwart stubbornness that could have only been learned. The only highlight of his morning hygiene, aside from when the noise finally subsided, came in the form of a small surprise while brushing his teeth. The toothbrush he had gifted Benry was laid next to his own—red and blue of some nameless brand that sold in bulk—was utterly decimated. The cheap bristles of the head had been pressed flat in a manner Gordon had never encountered before. He could only stand and stare at the spectacle before him, foamy toothpaste dripping down his chin in contemplation.</p><p>His bedroom was blissfully empty when he returned from his self-imposed exile. Keeping an eye on Benry was important, but Gordon understood that his mental health did have to come first sometimes. Sitting in a pile upon the mess of covers where Benry had been laying were the clothes that Gordon had lent him. It was a minor annoyance considering the clothes hamper was entirely visible from the bed and not in the least bit full. Expecting Benry to put in the effort had been an optimistic fool’s errand. He left them there, crumpled and probably still warm, out of an emotion he refused to call spite. Instead, he focused on dressing himself.</p><p>A majority of his clothing was dedicated towards work and what wasn’t for work tended to be repetitious in style. Fashion, like many other things in Gordon’s life, was not something he put time aside for. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to wear plaid two days in a row. After all, it’s not as if his options were all that wide. The jeans, however, were traded out for a pair of slacks he hadn’t worn since… The fact that he couldn’t directly recall said enough on its own.</p><p>***</p><p>The rest of his day with Joshua followed a similar pattern to the one before it and to all the days before that. It produced an easy ennui to buffer the anxiety from that morning. Four-year-old children, by nature, produce and use enough energy to power most metropolitan cities. Joshua is no different. His disposition was rhythmless metronome between going outside—taking advantage of the small backyard Gordon dutifully manicured—and turning the inside of the house into just as much of a mess.</p><p>Benry was a specter on the outskirts of their periphery. He had adamantly refused every one of Joshua’s invitations to play tag, pretend, house, or even a pillow fort. It frayed Gordon’s nerves to have the blanket weight of Benry’s stare on his skin at all times, but he refused to let it subtract from his time with Joshua. Time that he had so very little of.</p><p>Gordon was on his way to the kitchen when Benry cornered him. Sweat plastered the loose hairs from his bun to his forehead and cheek, an unfortunate side effect of playing in the New Mexico heat. He had been intending to get a cup of water for himself and his son. An intention that had been blindsided as another body pushed up against him. He registered Benry’s cool fingers on his wrists. How they slid his own up above his head, too shocked to resist just yet. The unyielding fabric of Benry’s security vest against his pudgier-than-desired stomach, inhumanly chilly. And then, finally, Benry’s eyes. Dark and unreadable. Benry was difficult even at the best of times but now that Gordon could see his eyes, he was impossibly lost. Yellow sclera, a pupil slitted with reptilian menace.</p><p>He opened his mouth to protest. To say some meaningful statement that for once Benry would listen to. Yeah, right. That opportunity was lost when Benry closed the space between them, pinning Gordon into a kiss. Benry’s excitement, or perhaps inexperience, culminated into a teethy kiss that Gordon felt no control over. He was buffeted by the tides of Benry’s tongue and teeth as they broke against his lips, pleading entrance. It was just when Gordon had relaxed enough to breathe, part his lips against the onslaught, that Benry retreated. He had one taste of bitter blue raspberry and a tongue so, so cold.</p><p>Disbelief and shock were a veil pulled so thickly over Gordon’s eyes that he scarcely saw where the other man had gone. A blur of navy before Gordon was alone again. He stood there for far too long, arms slowly lowering from their pinned positions as if any sudden movement would break the stillness. Thoughts come disjointed, half-baked and skipping like a played-out record. No songs left, flip the vinyl. He could only make himself go to the kitchen, walking stiffly and retrieving the glass even stiffer. A windup toy going about its predetermined actions.</p><p>His tongue swept out along his bottom lip, gathering another hint of that blue raspberry flavor. Gordon’s thoughts returned to static once more.</p><p>***</p><p>The understanding, as Maria and Gordon had arranged it, was that Gordon was to drop Joshua off at her house by 8:30. The distance between them culminated into a two hour drive that Gordon dreaded every Sunday night. Joshua didn’t attend kindergarten in his town and Gordon’s work schedule with Black Mesa has removed his ability to bargain at the time the deal was struck. So, he savored every moment they had together.</p><p>At 7:30 he informed Benry that he had to take Joshua back to his mom’s. Benry was making good use of the PS3 again, the colors of the screen dousing the whole living room in shifting neon colors. He didn’t even look up from the technicolor hellscape of the screen, acknowledgement coming in the form of a shallow nod. He couldn’t spend much time thinking about Benry before the events of the day caught back up to him. Benry, of course, didn’t act any different than before. Because of that, Gordon refused to pay it any more attention as well.</p><p>A car trip of this magnitude required distractions of equal force. Gordon and Joshua belt out song after song with the kind of confidence reserved for those who are tone-deaf and know it. Disney song after Disney song, the occasional appearance by The Wiggles, and one or two of Gordon’s favorites that he’s deemed appropriate enough for Joshua to hear. There is such a thing as being too young for AC/DC. Although the car trip is a melancholy affair for Gordon, he refuses to let that seep into his time with Joshua. Of course, this only lasted for about forty minutes. The last twenty minutes of this leg of the trip is reduced to Joshua quite literally nodding off in his car seat.</p><p>Gordon, after dropping Joshua off at Maria’s home, has a desolate drive ahead of him. After five minutes of silence he turned the radio on just a few degrees. After ten, just a few more. After fifteen, he stopped kidding himself and accepted that he prefers the company of late-night radio hosts to the devil of silence.</p><p>***</p><p>The moon was absent from the sky when he pulled into his driveway, two hours lost to an inevitable chore that Gordon knew he was going to repeat once more. Anything for Joshua, he told himself. And he knew he meant it. Perfect darkness encapsulated him as he cut the engine of the car. No light spills from under the curtains of the living room. Any other time that would be expected, but he’s alarmed to think that Benry isn’t being entertained by running up Gordon’s electricity bill. Not for the first time today, he feels an ill omen.</p><p>Only a sliver of his home is illuminated when he steps inside. The flashlight on his phone, a necessary part of walking up to his door and unlocking it, cast everything into gloom. Details are difficult to decipher but nothing looks broken. Gordon closed the door behind himself and set the keys on the rack next to the door, toeing off his shoes. There’s a blur of movement to his left. Two reflective eyes in the hallway. He held his breath as they drew near. Logically, Gordon knew it was Benry. It was harder to reason with his lizard hindbrain when he felt like prey animal. His back was literally to a wall. No way to defend himself.</p><p>Faster than Gordon was able to process, Benry was once again pinning him against a wall. Practice makes better, and this time Gordon was able to get a knee up to make space. Which immediately was crushed against his stomach. Nails dug into his skin as he struggled against Benry’s grip. One handed this time, Benry holds Gordon up by the wrists. The other hand makes itself known, brand-like and startling as it cups his jaw. Gordon can feel himself baring his teeth, feral fury on display.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em> do you think you’re doing, Benry?”</p><p>The fingers on his neck are exploratory; lingering on Gordon’s rabbit-fast pulse that was threatening to burst from his skin.</p><p>“… Idiot little cringe man, spending so much time with other people.”</p><p>“Are you… Are you jealous of my son??”</p><p>Gordon couldn’t help but notice the loathing that dusted his voice. It wasn’t unexpected that the other man might be more childish than his actual son, Benry had displayed that petulance often. However, Gordon had been hoping that it was limited to his limited syntax and inability to call Gordon by his first or last name. “Fucking let go of me, dude.”</p><p>“No can do, bro. You’re mine.”</p><p>“I’m not yours. Hell, we’re barely even friends, Benry.”</p><p>Benry’s hand moved to the back of Gordon’s neck and for a moment his heart caught in his throat. Claws that hadn’t been there before pressed against his shuttering pulse. They turned into strong encouragement for him to remain motionless as Benry leaned down to kiss him again. Gordon could only describe the kiss as <em>hungry</em>. It reminded him of times where too much alcohol was involved and lust was burning in his veins. When he only thought to communicate the necessity of fewer clothes through actions alone.</p><p>Blue raspberry and chapped lips were a cloying sensation that quickly overtook any of Gordon’s high brain functions. He could only smell his own soap, an undercurrent of musk accompanying it that could have only belonged to Benry. Benry. Every one of his senses was overwhelmed by the other man. Finally, he parted his lips to the onslaught of teeth and lips that had been so desperate to breach that first barrier. A low growl of surprised pleasure vibrated down his throat, originating from Benry. He could only respond with a shudder of his own, entirely focused on keeping up with the demanding pace that Benry demanded.</p><p>Gordon would have been hard pressed to assign a timeline to the kiss. It could only be mapped through changes in position and intensity. They broke the kiss in degrees. Time between the less-than-chaste pecks they shared with one another increased in intervals. Each break Gordon promised himself just a little bit more that he’d stop. And eventually, he meant it.</p><p>Benry’s glow in the dark eyes are just as spooky the third time around, even half-lidded. Gordon grappled for anything clever for anything to say, feeling like his brain was still booting up from whatever kind of restart signal that make out session was.</p><p>“Is that going in your cringe compilation,” Gordon huffed, terribly out of breath.</p><p>For a moment, silence reigned. Their heavy breathing was harsh and asynchronous. Then, all at once, Benry burst out laughing. It wasn’t the maniacal laughter Gordon had once heard in Black Mesa, but more of someone who had been caught off guard with delight.</p><p>“Yeah, bro, it’s going in there.”</p><p>***</p><p>Despite the misadventures of the day, Gordon found that the exhaustion he had felt did not translate to drowsiness as efficiently as he had hoped. He laid awake for some time. Being that Gordon knew he was a worrier, he felt little surprise when his thoughts turned to the future and the logistics thereof. Benry, while only a nuisance now, was set to become a problem. Possessiveness was… Problematic. Gordon had a hard-enough time balancing work life and his weekends with Joshua. If Benry wouldn’t even stand for him to be gone for two hours, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Getting rid of Benry didn’t work the first time around. What was he going to tell the Science Team™?</p><p>Gordon sighed, squeezing his eyes closed. For now, all he could feel about the future was a sense of resignation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to Hirae Starguy on Discord for proof reading. I haven't written a fic in forever and it shows.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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